


One Ring

by orphan_account



Series: One Ring [1]
Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holiday Plans, M/M, shopping for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A little Jeandré drabble about JEV going to fashion week with MoKo.





	One Ring

**Author's Note:**

> MoKo’s voice is co-opted from a Senegalese man who taught me history in high school. Moko doesn’t give enough interviews for me to get a feel for his for-real voice, and my history teacher was epically cool.

André put his hands on JEV’s hips, kissing the side of his neck. He inhaled the smell of his skin, feeling almost overwhelming happiness, and slid his arms around his waist. _Fuck,_ _I’m so lucky to have you_. JEV put his phone down, and turned around.

‘MoKo’s coming with the Uber.’ He kissed André. ‘I’m going to miss you, being away for a whole week.’

‘You’re going to come back with all our ideas made into designs that we can use for production.’

JEV grinned. ‘Yeah. Our label’s going to go crazy. Launch in time for Christmas sales.’

‘We’re going to have a good Christmas,’ André said, thinking about the holiday homes he’d rented for his family and JEV’s in Spain. _I still need to tell him that’s what we’re doing for the holidays, but the families are on sides_. JEV ran his fingers through André’s hair, kissing him.

‘We’re going to have a great Christmas, as long as we’re together.’ He put his arms around André’s neck, inadvertently tickling his cheek with his beard. ‘We must introduce our families before December, so we can spend it all together.’

André smiled into JEV’s hair. ‘We must take them to Fuji. Show them all the wonders of Japan.’

‘Definitely!’ JEV rubbed André’s back before stepping away and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He cupped André’s cheek, and kissed him tenderly. ‘Until we see each other again, Papy. I love you.’

André cupped JEV’s hand with his, stroking it with his thumb. ‘I love you too.’ And then he was gone, with his tiny pull-along suitcase and his Louis Vuitton bag trailing behind him. André sighed, feeling an odd emptiness. _Fill the container of the relationship, not the other person_. He picked up his phone and dialled. ‘Hi Mum, would you like to come to Japan with me? My treat.’

 

JEV climbed into the back of the Uber with MoKo. The older man greeted him, clapping him warmly on the thigh. He let himself be pulled into an enthusiastically paternal side-hug.

‘You are well, JEV?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’m well.’

MoKo held him at arm’s length, studying his face. ‘You are more than well. You are shining like a star.’

JEV blushed. ‘Things have been going well for me recently in my career.’

MoKo frowned, looking at JEV out the side of his eyes. ‘You are in love,’ he declared, clapping JEV’s thigh. ‘So, tell me about this boy you want a ring for?’

‘I didn’t say anything about buying André a ring. I mean, I didn’t say anything about a man.’

MoKo laughed. ‘You call a jewelry designer, and say you want help designing something. I know you like that handsome boy you race with in Formula E. I can see it in your faces, the look of young love.’ He held up his finger. ‘Tell me if I am wrong.’

‘He is a man.’

‘He is not a man until he is a father. Only someone who has a child to remember him is a real man.’ MoKo smiled. ‘You avoided the question twice now. You want a custom ring for this boy?’

‘No. You’re right. I wanted a ring for him for our first anniversary, but if he asks, I’m asking you for help with the sunglasses brand we’re doing together. Since you know the racing audience, what they like, those things.’

‘I can do some drawings for the sunglasses. But more about the boy and the ring you want for him.’

‘Can you make one that looks like a nut? Like a mechanical nut, one that goes on a bolt. Not a pistachio.’

‘Ehhh.’ MoKo nudged JEV with his shoulder. ‘You want to bolt that boy to you like a monocoque is bolted to a chassis.’

JEV looked out the window at the passing London scenery. _Well, I did decide to give fewer fucks about hiding it. I can’t expect it to go unnoticed_. ‘I do. Don’t tell him that, though.’

‘I won’t. You will tell him first.’

JEV smiled, fidgeting with his bracelet. ‘Is it possible? The ring that looks like a bolt?’

‘Very easily. You want something on it, maybe some cars on the outside?’

‘No, just plain. If it’s possible, make it look like it’s been wrenched a lot. That is how you say it, no? The scratches from the spanner?’

MoKo grinned. ‘I will do that. And a date on the inside?’

‘Yeah, our anniversaries.’

MoKo made a disapproving noise. ‘Why do you have more than one anniversary? Young people are crazy, always making things harder than they need to be. You only have one anniversary: the day you first kissed.’

‘He agrees with you. I count from when he first called me his.’

‘Then I put the date that he counts on the ring.’ MoKo took his hand. ‘Now, you listen to me very carefully, JEV. Don’t you fuck it up with this boy. And I’m swearing, so you know I’m serious. You seem so very happy. I can see it in your face, in your body, in your art, your photos that you put on the Instagram that look like he taught you. I can hear it in your voice. Don’t fuck it up with someone who makes you shine like the stars. And don’t tell me it’s the title, because I know that’s rubbish. You shine for this boy, because it is true love.’

‘I won’t. I’ll try my best to not fuck it up.’

‘Good boy. You call me when you want wedding rings, yes?’

‘It’ll probably be a while – we need a long engagement because of careers and racing and things – but yes, I will definitely call you for wedding rings.’

MoKo squeezed JEV’s hand. ‘Good boy.’

**Author's Note:**

> That definition of masculinity in Senegalese culture is fairly universal across Africa, but I’ve expressed it simplistically for purposes of narrative flow. The actual belief is that you can’t be brought back to the homestead (usually in spirit [like, making a stretcher out of saplings of a specific tree, and drumming and bringing food to the grave to invite the remembered relative onto the stretcher], rather than literally exhuming, unlike the Māori rememberance and veneration traditions) to become one of the ancestors unless you leave behind children to venerate you and your memory. As a result of that trend in African spiritual traditions, generally with obvious exceptions like the isiXhosa and Sesuthu circumcision rituals, a guy isn’t considered a real man in Africa until he’s performed enough masculine rites of passage, like marriage and baby-making. This is why the Catholic church struggled to gain traction in sub-Saharan Africa; people just didn’t trust men who were old and still had no wives (like, what was wrong with them that they couldn't find a woman who wanted to live with them).


End file.
